


Half The World Away

by neversaydie



Series: cock it and pull it [22]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Closeted Character, Complicated Relationships, Family Issues, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Canon, shotgun days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 02:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14125857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: Sammy's parents never disowned him, nothing so dramatic, but for the silence and distance which has drifted into their relationship over the years… they may as well have.He wonders if they'd imagined him growing up sometimes (athlete, valedictorian, academic, lawyer, doctor, father), if they'd held him as a baby and pictured his bright future and thought about what he would do with all the promise they gave him.None of what they pictured was shacking up with a boyfriend in California and cussing on the radio for a living, he knows that much for sure.[in which Sammy calls his mom.]





	Half The World Away

Sammy pours himself a scotch - a large one - before he makes the call.

Jack is squirrelled away in the office working on his latest project (he's recently pitched it as both a supernatural radio drama and an audio documentary about folk beliefs, so who knows what it'll actually turn out to be - all Sammy knows is he's planning a trip to King Falls sometime this summer for research), and Sammy reassures himself that he's unlikely to make an appearance while he's on the phone. His boyfriend gets touchy about the Stevens family… understandably.

Sammy's parents never disowned him, nothing so dramatic, but for the silence and distance which has drifted into their relationship over the years… they may as well have. They find everything to do with him slightly embarrassing, like he's not the kind of kid they signed up for when they decided to procreate. Adolescent mistakes and bad taste in partners, sure, but they never agreed to be designated 'the ones with the gay son' as a shorthand.

Sammy wonders if they'd imagined him growing up sometimes (athlete, valedictorian, academic, lawyer, doctor, father), if they'd held him as a baby and pictured his bright future and thought about what he would do with all the promise they gave him. If they'd conjured up images of suits and ties, houses and wives, youthful success and dutiful adulthood.

None of what they pictured was shacking up with a boyfriend in California and cussing on the radio for a living, he knows that much for sure. He wonders if they would have had another baby after him, if they'd known what a disappointment their only son would turn out to be.

"Hey Mom," he tries to sound upbeat when she picks up, injecting some enthusiasm into his tone without slipping into what she disparagingly calls his 'radio voice'. Why he's not allowed to be fake when their entire relationship is structured around the selective omission of details, he doesn't know.

"Hi Sam," she always sounds like she's bracing herself when he calls, and Sammy wonders if he's really let them down that often. "How are you?"

"I'm good. The, uh, the show's doing great, we just got nominated for a late night award," he realises he's nervously tugging at his hair and stops himself, moving his cell away from his face so he can take a sip of his drink without his mother hearing. She hates it when he drinks. "How's everything there?"

"It's all fine. Your cousin Jamie just got engaged, remember his girlfriend Anna?" Sammy makes a vague noise of agreement, despite having never met Anna. He and Jamie are almost the same age and were close growing up, but he hasn't seen the guy for years, hasn't been invited to a family function for a while because his parents are 'sure he'd be too busy to come'. "How's… How are your friends?"

Ah yes, their bi-monthly dance of pretending to acknowledge Sammy's boyfriend while simultaneously denying his existence, right on schedule. Sammy's beginning to get a headache.

"They're fine. Jack's great, thanks for asking," the snipe slips out before he can rein it in, but he quickly loses his nerve and tries to undo the affront before they can get into an argument. "He's, uh, making plans to go see his parents over the holidays, this year. Maybe-"

"Oh, your Dad and I are going to spend Christmas with Tom and the boys," she cuts him off before he can make the suggestion, to save them both the awkwardness of having to refuse it. Some parents like their kids to visit, Sammy figures, but his aren't the visiting type. "But we'll be around in the new year if you want to come over. On your own."

Sammy closes his eyes and forcibly suppresses the urge to say something when she feels the need to fucking specify. As if he'd voluntarily subject Jack to the Stevens' particular brand of awkward, coded stoicism.

Hell, Sammy hasn't made eye contact with his Dad since he was sixteen - he knows that's not normal. All it had taken was the men's underwear catalogue from under his bed dropped on the kitchen table in front of him (the pre-internet days were tough) and a gruff 'cut that shit out' to end whatever relationship they had… not that they'd had much of one to begin with. Their conversations since have been of a purely practical nature, with a handshake thrown in every so often to keep things appropriately affectionate.

"Sure. I'll check my schedule," he lies, as usual, both of them fully aware it'll take a wedding or a funeral to get them in the same room within the next year.

Silence stretches uncomfortably between them, thick with details unsaid and never to be voiced.

Sammy wants to tell her that they've just painted the kitchen, that there were actually flowers in their yard this spring, that he's started going to therapy and is feeling happier than he has in years. He wants to tell her that Jack's turned him into a coffee snob, that he wakes up every morning to the sound of his boyfriend's terrible singing in the shower and sometimes lies there, thinking about stuff like marriage and kids and imagining a future - a bright one.

But they don't _do_ that, so he doesn't say anything.

"Anyway, I'll let you-"

"You're taking care of yourself, aren't you?" His Mom cuts him off accidentally, speaking over his attempt to end the call. The concern in her voice is sincere, if strained, and Sammy closes his eyes again when he hears the words which have haunted him since he was fourteen and terrified.

_"It's a hard way to live. I don't want your life to be harder than it has to be."_

"I'm fine, Mom," he promises, suddenly choked up. "I'm happy."

"I'm glad," she clears her throat, perilously close to _endorsing_ his oh so shameful lifestyle, and Sammy really wants to fucking cry with how much he hates this. He's grown and he doesn't need them, but part of him _aches_ for his family to love him the way other families do. "I'd better go. Keep in touch, sweetheart."

"I will," it'll be at least another month until their next call, but if the charade keeps them together then they might as well maintain it. This is their normal, to whatever degree it can be called that, and Sammy knows it's not going to change now. Hope is a mistake, he's learned that much. "Bye, Mom."

She ends the call promptly, getting on with the rest of her day. Sammy watches the contact screen until it fades to black, and only his own distorted reflection remains.


End file.
